What Comes of the Fog
by Sleepyreader13
Summary: Everyone sees their dreams come true on that dark floating island, and Edmund isn't immune to the magic's power. He falls under that dark spell too, only his dreams have always been more like nightmares. What does he see? Angsty, sibling fluff. One-shot.


A/N- I have no experience whatsoever with this fandom, so if I did this wrong, I apologize. I also don't normally write dark things, so I'm trying my hand at that too.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. =]

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Disclaimer- I do not own The Dawn Treader or any other Narnian reference.

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Edmund had to fight down a wince every time someone mentioned dreams. Ever since his first trip to Narnia the subject had been a touchy one. The topic had always brought about the subject of his dreams, and those where always too painful to recall while conscious.

Others were afraid of other things in their nightmares. Some were afraid of monsters that lurked in the shadows and hid in the night, or of creatures so monstrous, so ghastly, that they made even the most hardened of minds to recoil, or others of things that petrify the body, numb the mind, and are so scary, so gruesome, that all sense and sanity flees in the sight of this fear. But, Edmund would have taken all these dreams and more to be rid of his nightmares. He would be glad to call these things his nightmares, but it was not the case with this young king.

No, when it came to his dreams, his most frightening nightmares, his biggest fear is always himself.

His mind would grow dark, the air would become a chill that would shake him to the bone, and the sounds of voices long past insane would come to him from the same prison that he was once held, calling him names that he knew, oh how he _knew,_ were true. He would try to get away, to crawl across the cold floor, but the manacles on his ankles would screech as they slid across the floor and he would be stuck, still in hearing range of those voices.

"Traitor," they would purr, voices laughing and silky and insane, "Monster."

The voices would laugh, and _her _laugh would join theirs, making his skin crawl and his blood run cold and all of his could-haves and might-have-beens would flash before his eyes and he would be powerless to stop them. They would worsen and the laughter would increase and he would almost choke on the smell of ice and air and memories. He would wake up with cold sweat and hot tears running across his skin, gagging and retching. Most of the time he would wake up in the arms of Lucy or Susan, or more likely, Peter, who had come to be his closest confident and friend, his brother being his polar opposite and other half while in Narnia and even in England after they got back, but there were always those nights where he would wake up alone. That's when his thoughts would run rampant and his memories would flash and he would truly think he was going crazy.

Those nights where always the worst; and as elusive as Edmund was, these were the times that he craved human interaction. This was when he would long for his brother's strong arms, Lucy's soft smile as she wrapped her little arms around his waist, or Susan's understanding eyes as she clamped his hands in gentle grip. He would long for someone beside him, for someone to just be there and help, because if he was alone, the fear would always creep in. The fear would always manage to wrap itself around his heart and he felt as if he was smothering, and this was always when he longed for his siblings.

This was when he especially longed for his brother. They had become close. The girls were wonderful, but they hadn't been through the things that Peter and Edmund had. No one could take away the battles the brothers had fought together, the tears that had soaked the other's shoulder when the losses became too great, or the blood shed together on the battlefield. His golden haired brother, his High King, had always been the best at calming the young king's fears.

So, when the wild eyed man had come onto the boat, scared witless and shaking in relief and fright, and said that this was the land were _dreams _would come true, his heart had given a painful thud and his blood had run cold.

Like Caspian said to Reepicheep, there were some things a person should never have to face. Edmund knew that too well.

He walked away from Caspian, hoping against hope that they got out of this cursed darkness before the effects took over, and found himself in a dark corner out of everyone's eyes. He closed his eyes against the oppressing night, wishing the talking wasn't turning into frantic gasps and whispers. He heard a startled gasp, a frightened breathe, and immediately opened his eyes to look for the scared individual, only to find that the category contained most of the crew. The whispers were quickly turning into loud and high strung words, but he still didn't see anything but blackness and Lucy's pale face lit up by the lantern.

He didn't see anything; that was, until the blackness swirled around him and the chill in the air around him made him cold all the way to his bones. He could feel something on his face as the darkness lightened, snowflakes, ice crystals so beautiful and soft that he could barely feel them when they alighted on his face, but he flinched away from them anyways. His flinch made something else apparent also, and he looked down to see iron shackles clamped tightly around his ankles, the skin underneath already so cold that it hurt. He looked away from the quickly lightening darkness around him only to find himself face to face with _her. _Her skin, pale as snow, was as perfect as it had been when he last saw her, her eyes still that piercing grey of ice in the morning. The monster in front of him was utterly beautiful, coldly perfect, and he hated her more than anything in all the worlds.

Her words were colder than her eyes as she said, "You broke my precious staff, Edmund."

The whole world seemed to be incased in ice. The darkness had changed to close crystal walls, his body seemed frozen under the witch's icy stare, and the ice was so cold it hurt to breathe. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to block out the cold beauty in front of him, only to open them to a worse sight.

Lucy was kneeling, crying and bleeding and clutching a limp Susan. Lucy's blue dress was torn, blood spreading on the fabric like crimson water, her hands slicked with the blood coming from Susan's chest. Her hands firm on Susan's shoulders, and each shake brought another sob out of his little sister. Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and filled with blame and tears.

"You did this!" She screamed at him, anger and betrayal laced in every one of her words, tears pouring down her dirty face. "You're a monster!"

And then the witch was on her, a crystal wand surging forward and piercing his baby sister. Her screams, echoing off the close ice walls, would haunt him forever. _She _looked up from the stone that was now his sister, smiling that cold smile.

"Did you really think I'd let you get away with that?"

He choked on air, trying to scream and failing. He closed his eyes, not sure if it was because he was denying what was in front of him or because he could no longer see through the tears now flowing down his numb face. His hands shook, a sound tearing his eyes open again, his head swiveling to with the noise. He'd heard it before, but only on rare occasion, a deep whimper that almost threw him into a panic. No, Peter hadn't cried in such a very long time, he couldn't be now, not when Edmund's world was crumbling around him. Peter couldn't be breaking when he was the only one that could hold him up. He finally found him, only to want to look away again.

There Peter stood; his tan face pale with blood loss, his body beaten and utterly broken, dusty cheeks streaked with pale trails of tears. His golden hair was caked with mud and blood, his fingers bruised and skin torn as he looked at Edmund. His blue eyes, normally so filled with life and love that it was over flowing, were dark and hollow. He glared at the ebony haired king with so much hurt and pain and loathing that it physically hurt to see his eyes, but he didn't look away. He couldn't look away. His brother, his best friend, his king, only whispered one thing to him. "You're nothing but a traitor."

The pain that pierced his heart was entirely unfamiliar. Like a white hot blade to the soul, it tore at his chest, making even the harsh cold welcome to the pain in his body. His eyes blurred, his hands shook, and he couldn't breathe. It tugged at his heart strings, pulling at his chest as he almost collapsed from the pain. It was like a hit to his heart, to hear his brother, his confident, say it, and it hurt so much more than any blow.

He saw her coming, saw as she moved toward him. He started forward, towards his brother that hated him, trying to intercept the monster before it got close to the only family he had left. He was reaching, reaching, so close and yet so far, because even he was unforgivable, a monster, he would save his brother even if he couldn't save himself.

But, he couldn't even save his brother.

He watched, still reaching, reaching, as the Witch got there before him, her pale arm surging forward. He croaked out a horse "No." as the ice connected with his brother. Peter's screams of agony bouncing off the walls even as he closed his eyes. "No!"

He finally got there, finally, reaching, his hand connecting with his brother's stone cheek.

"No. No!" he managed out in a voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes against the pain, acutely aware of the tears running freely down his face, of the sobs trying to break from his body.

Then a blinding flash lit up behind his eyes. So bright that he opened his wet eyes, only to see that he was surrounded by darkness once again, not the ice walls of that accursed prison. He looked up to see a white albatross in the dark sky, then over to find Lucy's face. She was looking at him, if just for a moment, and her eyes filled with such a look of understanding and love at the sight of his face that he could not help the sigh that escaped him. He smiled at her despite the tears still escaping his eyes, and she mouthed a silent, "Love you."

Only a dream. Only the fog.

He reached up to wipe his eyes, but before he could he spotted someone. Reepicheep was watching him, black eyes wide and solemn. He nodded at the mouse, using his sleeve to wipe the water from his face and the mouse just kept looking.

The mouse's eyes never left his face, and after seeing his king like this, he knew that there were truly some things that no man should ever have to face.

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A/N- I hope you liked it, and I would appreciate it immensely if you would drop me a review about how this turned out.


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